Save Me
by ghostlydarling
Summary: Florence 'Flora' Darling is the niece of Jane Darling, and her grandmother is the one and only Wendy Darling. She used to believe in fairytales but now that her family has begun to fall apart, she can't find happiness. Can Peter Pan save her? ((NOTE: CONTAINS SELF HARM. MAY BE TRIGGERING, BUT I WILL TRY TO MAKE IT AS NON TRIGGERING AS POSSIBLE.))
1. Chapter 1

**- NOTE : THIS STORY MAY BE TRIGGERING AND USES CONCEPTS OF SELF HARM -**

My Aunt Jane told me the story when I was six. The ginger-haired boy who saved her from the dangerous pirates, the boy who taught her to fly. I believed the story for a while, until I turned twelve and I started to hate the idea of magic or fairytales. My Aunt Jane began to grow sad; depressed and upset all of the time, anxious and worrisome, barely speaking and eating. Whenever she visited the family on holidays, I would try to talk to her but she'd always find a way to get out of conversation. Several years later she moved to the States and we were only able to talk to her over the phone, which wasn't often. The reason for her depression and anxiety was unknown to the entire family. My mother told me she simply snapped; she'd been depending on make-believe stories for so long that once she realized they were all simply dreams she became sad.

My mother is Jane's adopted sister. Jane and my mother got along pretty well, but my mother didn't get along with Uncle Danny, though. They always end up fighting. He stopped believing in fairy tales at a young age (which my mother always said was surprising since he loved pirates so much) and he became angry and sad, just like Jane.

For a while, the boy who could fly made them happy and cheerful and he saved them from the terrible reality of the War that was happening during that time. But when they stopped believing, it was like they died. They became cold as ice.

I suppose he does that to people. His name was Peter Pan. I refuse to believe in him any more, because if I continue to believe then I'll break like Jane and Danny and I don't want to be sad and cruel and cold.

I nearly forgot about Peter Pan until the night I turned fifteen. I sat on my bed in the darkness, staring out my window. Things were becoming bad for my family. My father lost his job and mother was stressed. They fought often and I couldn't remember the last time she kissed him. And my birthday had been forgotten; no cake, no presents. No laughing and smiling and blowing out candles. I didn't mention it. I wouldn't want them to fight more over the fact that they had forgotten something silly and stupid, like a birthday. It's just one birthday. I'd have another next year and the year after that and the year after that.

But I was still sad; upset and slightly angry. It was slightly my fault; I hadn't reminded them or dropped any hints. I barely talked to them at all, and when we did talk, they were yelling at me because of my bad marks in school or because I didn't come home from school on time. But who would want to come home from school (which was hell) when all they came home to was pain and sadness (and an even hotter hell)?

I stood up and tip-toed to my desk, rummaging through the drawers until I found what I was looking for. A small pocket knife, sharp and shiny with a nice pointed tip perfect for cutting. I hadn't harmed myself in months; I'd forced myself to stop when my mother nearly saw the cuts at dinner one night. But now she didn't notice me at all; she practically neglected me, like I was some kind of pet she could just forget about. She wouldn't notice. She never noticed.

I closed the drawer and locked my door. I walked to the window and sat down on the window seat, looking outside at the cold town. Snow drifted down from the clouds, blanketing the city. I rested my cheek against the glass as I rolled my sleeve up and began to make them; short, deep cuts. Ten of them, evenly spaced out along my arm, all covered in tiny bubbles of blood. I let a tear roll down my cheek as I grabbed a tissue and wiped the blood away, wiping the knife down. I closed the pocket knife and threw it across my room, watching it slide under my bed. I rolled my sleeve back down as the tears began to flow, faster now, until I was sobbing quietly in my room, the hours ticking bye until it was two in the morning.

I turned to the window again, trying to ignore the sharp pain in my right forearm. I looked up at the sky, my eyes scanning the empty, black surface. Well, almost empty, except for the moon and the two glittering stars next to it.

'Second star to the right.'

I pushed the thoughts away, looking back down at the city. That stupid fairytale from my childhood. What was he called? Peter Pan?

As soon as I remembered his name the story flooded back to me, filling my mind. Ginger hair, flying, fighting pirates, friendship, fun, smiling, happy, lost boys, paradise.

I choked back more tears as I unlatched the window, pushing the windows open. The cold January wind blew into my room, causing my eyes to sting. A snowflake landed on my hand as I stared out at the city, my eyes slowly going upwards until they rested on the second star to the right. I scanned the sky, looking for any other stars, but no. Just those two.

And then a shooting star. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut, quickly making a wish. 'I wish to be happy.'

And after minutes of watching the sky, those minutes turned into hours and I laid down on the window seat, curling into a ball and falling asleep, my window open, my air becoming as cold as the winter world beyond my bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't awake on the window seat of my home. I awoke in a fluffy bed with a soft furry blanket covering me, my head resting on a somewhat soft pillow. I opened my eyes and looked around the room; packed dirty walls, with a few other beds. Some chairs and assorted items sat around the room. Hats and sticks and wooden bowls filled with foods like berries. 'Where am I?' I untangled myself from the blanket, slipping out of the bed and walking around the room. 'Why aren't I freaking out? I should be screaming!' I thought to myself, looking down at my clothes. I still had on my dark blue sweater and my grey leggings. I rolled up my sleeve and saw that my cuts were now covered in bandages, wrapped around them nice and tight. They no longer hurt and I sighed, tugging my sleeve down. I looked around the room, trying to find a clue of where I was. And then I saw it; green velvety fabric in the shape of a hat, a bright red feather poking out of the side. "I must be dreaming." I whispered to myself, taking a step backwards and tripping over a rock, falling onto my bottom. I shrieked as I fell, and immediately I heard rustling. I scrambled, standing up again as the rustling sound got louder. A large brown door opened and boys slid in, laughing and smiling. Seven boys, all who I could name in my head.

Tootles was the smallest, then Nibs and then Slightly. Then Cubby and the Twins, and then a taller boy, who looked about my age. Ginger hair and bright, smiling eyes that looked over me. "She's awake!" He smiled, his ginger hair messy and covering parts of his face. The boys all cheered and ran towards me. I shrieked again and ran from them, grabbing the first thing I saw. A dagger made of stone sat upon a small table. I snatched it up and pointed it at the boys, and they all froze. The taller boy looked surprised, and even a bit mad.

"Hey, don't hurt them!" He said, pushing through them to get to me. "Don't you remember us?"

"Remember you? I've never met any of you! Who are you? Why am I here? You stupid ginger, flying, crazy-" And then it hit me like a train and my eyes went wide. "Peter Pan! You aren't real!"

"I am too real!" He replied, a bit childishly as he lunged at me, grabbing the dagger out of my hand and shoving it into his belt. He grabbed his hat and placed it on his head, moving his hair out of his eyes. "You're looking at me, aren't you? I must be real! The lost boys are real, too! Tootles and Nibs and Slightly and Cubby and the Twins… we're all real, silly!"

"I'm not silly! You don't even know who I am!"

"You're Jane, aren't ya?"

"Jane's my crazy Aunt, you idiot! I'm Florence! Her niece?" I stared at him for a moment before realizing how completely ridiculous I was being. "What am I saying? This isn't happening. I don't have to explain anything to you, Pan!"

"Florence? That's kind of a funny name."

"Shut up." I hissed, crossing my arms. "I shouldn't even be here! You kidnapped me!"

"I didn't kidnap you, I helped you! You're arm was all messed up." He replied, pointing at my bandaged arm. I looked away from him, gritting my teeth.

"I stopped believing in you when I was twelve."

"Well I'm here. I'm not some story. What, do you think Jane is crazy or somethin'?" He asked, scoffing. I glanced over at him and sighed.

"When do you plan on taking me home?"

"When your arm gets better." He replied, glancing at my arm, the bandage hidden underneath my sweater sleeve. He didn't know that the cuts happened on purpose; self-inflicted harm probably didn't exist in his happy, childish mind. The lost boys stared at me, waiting for me to shoot back some snarky response at Peter once again. For a moment, I felt bad. He just wanted to help. But was he even really helping? He was keeping me away from reality; all the stuff I had to face. When I got back it would feel even worse, but for now it would feel great. Never land was a blessing and a curse.

"A day or two, then?"

"A week." He smirked, taking out his knife and twirling it around his fingers. He walked around the room before sitting down in a large chair, slinging his legs over one arm of the chair and leaning his back on the other arm. "You don't have to do anything. Just tell us stories, like Wendy. Or keep the lost boys entertained, like Jane."

"In case you haven't noticed, my name isn't Wendy _or_ Jane. I'm nothing like them. I'm not going to do things for you just because they did." I replied, pushing through the small crowd of boys and walking past them, towards a large, door-sized hole in the dirt. I walked through it and up a small slope, pushing open a wooden slab. I stepped out into the fresh air, the grass crunching under what I now realized was my bare feet. I kicked the door closed and walked away, crossing my arms.

Perhaps I was being unfair.

"Florence!" I heard someone call out behind me. I stopped and turned around. Peter was floating mid-air. He landed on the ground and walked towards me. "Look, I just want to keep you safe so you don't get hurt anymore."

"Do you even know how I got these cuts on my arm?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes at him. He stared at me and then looked down at the ground. He then looked back up at me, nodding.

"I'm not five years old, you know. I'm the same age as you."

I stared at him. Maybe I could give Peter Pan a chance. One half of my mind was screaming 'No, don't! You'll be sad! You'll miss him! You'll get everything you've ever wanted and then you'll lose every bit of it!' and then the other half was sobbing, 'Let him in! Let him take care of you. Stay with him, hug him!'.

"I just want you to stay here while they heal. You don't have to talk to me."

"Fine." I replied quietly, walking towards him. He smiled slightly and turned around, opening the wooden door. I stepped back inside and walked into the den, sitting down on the bed I woke up in. I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared at the lost boys, who stared back at me, as if they were expecting something.

"Can you tell us a story?" Tootles asked, and I couldn't help but smile a bit.

"Fine. One story." I replied, and they all cheered.


	3. Chapter 3

~~ Thank you so much for the good reviews and so many reads! I'm working on more chapters so follow this story if you want to continue being updated because I promise more is on the way!~~

"The End." I whispered, looking down at all of the now sleeping lost boys. I sighed and laid down on the bed, stretching out. I heard a shuffling noise, and then someone poked me in the side. I looked over and Peter was staring down at me.

"This is my bed."

"So?" I smirked, supporting myself on my elbows. He raised an eyebrow at me and I rolled my eyes, sitting up, my legs crossed. "Do I have to move? It so comfy."

"Yeah."

I rolled my eyes and got off the bed, crossing my arms. "Where do I sleep?" I asked, as he crawled under the covers and reached above him, pulling a set of music pipes off a shelf above him.

"Pick a bed. The lost boys never use the beds anyways." He shrugged, blowing into one of the pipes, warming up. After blowing through a few pipes he began to blow through them in a sort of rhythm, creating a soft, pretty tune. I crawled under the covers in a bed across the room, listening to the music for a few moments before slowly drifting off to sleep.

"Florence, wake up." Peter whispered, shaking my arm. "I know you don't like me, but I want to show you something. I think you'll like it." I blinked several times, sitting up. The room was dim, and the lost boys had moved; some of them in beds and some on the floor. It was still late, and I'd probably only been asleep for an hour.

"What is it?" I whispered, running a hand through my auburn-colored hair. "Is it really that important? I'm exhausted." I yawned for effect, trying to lay back down again. He grabbed my arm and tugged on it.

"C'mon, you'll like it." He whined, and I rolled my eyes, standing up.

"You better make this worth my while." I said, shuffling across the floor, towards the door. I climbed up and pushed the wooden door open, crawling out with Peter right behind me.

"I don't have any pixie dust, so I'll just have to carry you over to the surprise."

"I can walk." I scoffed, crossing my arms.

"We can get there faster if I fly."

"I'm probably too heavy."

"Just come _on_¸ Florence!" He said, grabbing me and picking me up, shooting into the air. I squealed slightly and he laughed, twirling around. He began to fly through the trees, dodging trees and branches and leaves, plucking a flower off of a tree and handing it to me.

"Such a gentleman." I teased him, tucking the flower behind my ear. He laughed again, glancing down at me as he continued to fly. He slowly stopped and floated back to the ground, setting me down. The grass was tall and we were on a stone path leading to a large tree that looked like it had been dipped in gold. Sparkling figures floated in the air, and Peter gently touched one.

"The fairy tree. All the fairies live here. Tink used to live with me, but she moved to the fairy tree when she started getting recruited for special missions. Like going back to the mainland and helping the seasons change."

"The fairies make the seasons change?" I asked, following him as he walked over to a tree and sat down, leaning against the trunk. I copied his position and wrapped my arms around my knees, bringing them to my chest.

"Well the flowers don't just bloom by themselves." He replied, drawing things in the dirt. I stared at the golden tree, my eyes following the small figures as they flittered through the air, moving about.

"It's beautiful."

"I know. I wanted you to see it. Thought you'd like it."

"Well you were right. It's pretty cool." I said, plucking small wildflowers out of the dirt, setting them in between my knees. "Sorry for being so harsh. You know, earlier. I don't have a lot of friends, so I don't really know how to interact with people in a positive way."

"Oh." He replied, glancing up at me. "Do you not like people?"

"I like people. People just don't like me." I shrugged, looking down at my bandaged arm.

"Is that why you did that to yourself?" He asked quietly, scooting a bit closer to me. He reached out and took my arm, running his hand along the bandages. "You were bleeding a lot, so I had to put these on them. Do they hurt?"

"No, they don't hurt." I replied, watching him touch my arm. Usually I would have pulled away. I would have demanded to go home. I didn't like this whole 'intimate' thing, with him touching the secret cuts; the scars of everything I wanted to leave behind. "And I did it because of my parents, not because of the whole friends thing."

"Oh. I'm kind of glad I don't have parents, then." He replied, looking up at me. I glanced at him and our eyes connected for a brief moment before I coughed and shifted, and he moved away from me. "Sorry."

"It's fine." I replied coldly, looking away. I didn't like getting close to people. It only led to sadness and pain and heartbreak; all of the things I hated.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself, Florence."

"Call me Flora."

"I don't like it when people hurt themselves. People hurt themselves because they grow up and realize how bad everything really is, you know. That's why I refuse to grow up." Peter Pan said, and I looked over at him. And I realized how he did look like a teenager, physically, but in his eyes you could see that childishness and you could see that he never really would grow up. And perhaps he was lucky because of that; he never had to deal with the pain of being lonely, for he always had the lost boys, and he never had to grown-up things like get a job or do taxes. He was lucky.

"I don't want to grow up anymore." I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. "I hate getting older. Things only get harder and I only get more depressed and cold and harsh. Things won't get better. They'll never get better." I whimpered, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. I buried my face in my hands and I felt him wrap his arms around me and pull me to him, his head on top of mine, his lips on my forehead as he placed a kiss there. I wiped the tears from my cheeks, sniffing and burying my face in his shoulder.

And for the first time in a while, I felt safe.


	4. Chapter 4

"You don't have to leave." He whispers to me as he flies through the trees once again. "You could stay here and never grow up."

I refuse to listen to him. The idea of that is ridiculous. It's childish and immature and everything I'm not. Running away and hiding from the inevitable things is something I would never do, no matter how much I wished to stay and not have to worry about anything ever again. He set me down and opened the wooden door, letting me go down first. Just as I walked down, the lost boys began to wake up. Cubby came first, whining about how hungry he was. The rest slowly woke up and Peter grew tired of their whining, so he took them out to go get some food from Tiger Lilly. I followed closely behind the small group of Lost Boys, who walked fast and excitedly towards their food source. When we found the camp, the Indians welcomed us.

"They used to hate me until I saved Tiger Lilly from Hook once. Now they treat me like a King." He winked at me, and I crossed my arms. I followed him into the center of the camp, where a large man sat with his daughter.

"Peter!" Said the girl as she smiled, jumping up and hugging Peter tightly. She kissed his cheek and Peter blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. I ran a hand through my hair and bit down on the inside of my cheek. 'Don't ask who I am,' I begged inside of my head, my palms becoming clammy, 'please don't ask who I am.'

"Who is she?" Asked Tiger Lilly, narrowing her eyes slightly at me. I took a step back and waved once, keeping my distance.

"Just a friend from the mainland." Peter said, waving off her question. "Anyways, the lost boys were wondering if we could have some food, since you have plenty because of the harvest season." He said, changing the subject. Her eyes brightened slightly and she nodded, running to the large man (who I assumed was the chief) and whispering some things to him.

"He said to take as much as you need!" She said, smiling and running back to him. "Here, I'll take you to the food supply!" She said, grabbing his hand and dragging him forward, surprising and causing him to trip. I followed behind them, watching as she chatted with him excitedly.

I didn't like her. She seemed too enthusiastic about everything, and she looked at him in this weird way as if she liked him (though there was no doubt in my mind that she fancied him; the way her lips curled up slightly when he even looked her way gave it away).

"Flora!" I heard someone call my name and I snapped out of my trance, turning around. "Come here, look at all the food!" The Twins chirped in unison. I walked over and stared at the large sacks of food hanging from the trees.

"Tiger Lilly told me they hang the food from the trees so the foxes and skunks and other animals can't get the food and eat it." Nibs told me, jumping and pulling a rope, causing the sack to fall to the ground with a quiet thud.

"We usually just take a sack or two of food. That lasts us a while since food never goes bad here." Cubby said, reaching inside the sack and taking out a strawberry, shoving it into his mouth. Red fruit juiced dribbled down his cheek and I giggled. I curled the sleeve of my sweater in my palm and wiped his chin.

"Do you want some?" Slightly asked me, holding out his palm, which had a few blueberries in it.

"Just one." I replied, smiling and tossing the blueberry in the air, catching it in my mouth. They all cheered and I laughed as they tried to mimic me, mostly failing. Finally Tootles caught a raspberry in his mouth and I laughed, as did the rest of the lost boys.

"Ready to go?" I heard Peter call out behind us. I grabbed the sack of food and slung it over my back. His face was slightly red and he was adjusting his hat. Tiger Lilly was skipping away, a smile dancing across her lips.

The lost boys all nodded and we began to march through the woods once again. "Want me to carry that?" Peter asked me, floating beside me.

"Nope."

"You sure? Looks kinda heavy." He replied, reaching out to take it from me.

"I've got it." I insisted, shifting the bag to my other arm. "So how about you and Tiger Lilly?" I asked him, and his cheeks turned red again.

"She likes me a little too much." He replied, rubbing the back of his neck, blushing again. "I don't really like her back, though. I haven't liked anyone in a while, honestly."

"Hey! Look!" I heard Tootles call out, and the lost boys laughed and ran off. I turned around and tried to see where they went, but Peter touched my shoulder.

"They probably saw a squirrel or something." He shrugged, landing on the ground with a soft thud. He took the bag from me forcefully, slinging it over his shoulder.

"How come you haven't liked anyone in a while?"

"No one's really come along." He said, shrugging. "First Wendy, then Jane. Then another mainland girl I brought here a while back, but she didn't like me much. Kind of like you."

"I like you." I replied quietly, picking at a rip in the hem of my sweater. I tore it off, making a small scrap of fabric. I gathered my hair up and tied it into a ponytail with the fabric, brushing my bangs out of my face. "I just don't show it."

"You should work on showing your affection. That kind of stuff gets you far in life." Peter Pan replied, flying forward to the wooden door entrance, opening it and disappearing inside. I dug my fingernails into my palm, sighing.

Showing affection was a sign of weakness, in my opinion. As soon as you show someone that you like them, they turn on you. They drop you and leave you. Feelings are only good if you want to get hurt.

I followed him downwards into the room and sat down on a bed, pushing my bangs behind my ear. "What do you usually do around here for fun?" I asked him, crossing my ankles.

"Chase animals. Fight Hook, but he hasn't been active since I nearly cut his other hand off a week ago." Peter scratched his chin. "We like to just run around and do crazy things. Fun things! Like swimming and climbing trees and flying!" He smiled excitedly.

"I can't fly."

"That's because I haven't taught you to fly yet. I need to find some pixie dust, and then you can fly around NeverLand as much as you want!" He smiled, peeking under a bed. "I know I stashed some around here somewhere." He scratched his head, turning around in a few circles. He peeked under some bowls and a few more beds. I stood up and walked over to a bookshelf, looking inside of a few clay pots and opening a few of the books. Most of the books were just old storybooks, dusty with the pages nearly falling out. I opened one, though, and found that a space had been cut out in the pages, and a small green canvas bag had been placed inside.

"Is this it?" I asked, taking out the bag and holding it in the air. I closed the book and pushed it into the bookshelf. His eyes lit up and he walked over to me, taking the bag. He opened it delicately and frowned slightly.

"Yeah, but it's almost empty. I think we'll have to go visit Tink and get some more."

"Tinkerbell? You're fairy friend?" I asked, tightening my ponytail. "What if she doesn't like me?"

"She won't. But she'll get over it. She just gets jealous when I hang out with other girls. Most girls get like that around me." I snorted slightly and he glanced at me, furrowing his eyebrows. "What?"

"I'm not jealous."

"You sure? You looked kind of frustrated back at the IndianVillage when Tiger Lilly was giving me thimbles and such."

"You still call kisses 'thimbles'? Grow up, Peter." He glared at me and stuffed the bag in his pocket. I crossed my arms and glared back at him.

"You don't have to be so mean, Florence."

"You don't have to be so childish!" I snapped back, turning on my heel and walking away from him, towards the door.

"You don't have to be so grown-up, you know. You're not an adult yet. You can still be a kid sometimes." He mumbled, and I glanced back at him, sighing. "I think you try to act like a grown-up too much, and you end up frustrating everyone around you, including yourself."

"Since when did you get so smart? Last time I heard, you barely knew anything besides what was in NeverLand." I asked him, turning around.

"It's been a while since I've seen Jane or Wendy, you know." He whispered, staring at the ground. "People change."

"You aren't 'people', Peter. You're an infinite child."

"I can still change, Florence! You think you know everything about me just because Wendy and Jane told you a few wonderful stories! I know more than you think." He said, walking towards me. "I've seen things and I've felt pain and I've had to grow up a bit, too, so don't tell me that I can't change!" He snapped, walking past me. "I'm going to go get you some pixie dust and you can either come with me or stay here." He walked through the door and I heard the slamming of the wooden door. I bit my lower lip and followed him, my arms crossed tightly.


	5. Chapter 5

Short but necessary chapter. Expect another chapter in the next day or two. Thank you for reading and reviewing!~~

"I'm sorry, Peter." I whispered, walking a bit faster to keep up with his flying. He glanced down at me and huffed, landing on the ground.

"I guess I'm sorry, too." He replied, gripping the small canvas bag tightly as we approached the fairy tree. "But not really, because we both know I was right." He winked at me, and I relaxed slightly, biting down on my lower lip. He was back to his childish games, teasing and picking and flirting… no, he wasn't flirting. That would be ridiculous.

He flew up into the branches of the fairy tree and came down a few minutes later, a tiny golden figure floating beside him. "This is Tinkerbell."

The small pixie has her arms crossed and was staring at me through narrowed eyes, her green dress glimmering under the bright sun. She reached up to fix her blonde bun, though her eyes were still glared at me. I heard a tinkling noise, and after a few moments it occurred to me that the noise was her voice, speaking to Peter, most likely criticizing me.

"She says you look stupid." Peter Pan smirked, glancing up at me. "She also said that she's prettier than you."

"I can't argue against that." I shrugged, not willing to fight against a tiny fairy that I could squeeze to bits in the palm of my hand. If I reached out and grabbed her and squeezed my palm around her, I could kill her in seconds. Yet she still continued to insult me. She had nerve.

Peter and Tinkerbell spoke to each other for a few more moments before she flew inside the bag and came out seconds later. He peeked inside the bag and smiled. "Thanks, Tink! Tell the fairies I said hello." She nodded and flew back up into the tree, and I sighed.

"You sigh a lot." He said, scrunching up his nose slightly. "It's kinda annoying."

"You're fairy friend is bad-mannered. I didn't say anything to her and she just decided to hate me." I scoffed, plucking the bag out of his hand, ignoring his complaint."Is she like that with everyone?"

"Yeah, she gets jealous easily, especially when I bring girls back from the mainland. She hated Wendy and Jane, too." He replied, taking the bag back and tying it to his belt. "Since I'm so wonderful and all." He glanced up at me, sneering.

"You're so cocky!" I groaned, crossing my arms. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" He asked.

"You're just so confident! Do you have any sense of insecurity?" I asked, sighing somewhat angrily.

"There you go with that whole sighing thing again! You know, you just can't be happy. I think you like being sad, and you just refuse to give yourself a chance to be happy." He said, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You don't know me."

"And you don't know me. But really, Flora, if you're going to cuddle up to me and cry into my shoulder, you could be a bit nicer, and you don't always have to yell at me and scold me, and we could become friends-"

"Is that a joke? You put your arms around _me_, Peter Pan. I didn't ask to be held. I didn't want to be held. And I certainly didn't want a kiss on the forehead-"

"A thimble-"

"No, it's not a thimble! Stop being so childish! It's called a kiss! A kiss is a thimble and a thimble is a kiss, oh why can't you just get it right?" I yelled, so frustrated and angry and just very upset, he stared at me and frowned. He took a step towards me and reached out to touch my shoulder, but I took a step back.

"Flora, look, I'm sorry-"

"No." I said, shaking my head at him. "You can't… I… It's not your fault." I whispered, turning around and running.

I don't know why I ran. Maybe he overwhelmed me too much. His innocence and that stupid cocky smile and the fact that he refused to even _think_ about growing up made me want to scream. He thought he was better than me, and the truth is, he was. He was better than me in every way possible, all boiling down to the fact that he was always happy and I was always sad and I didn't want to admit it but we went together perfectly, balancing each other out in every way.

It dawned on me that that was the reason I was so cruel and cold to him; I couldn't stand the thought of anyone wanting me or being nice to me or giving me anything because I felt like I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve anything and he deserved the world and oh, god.

I need to leave.

I can feel it. I'm starting to like that stupid arrogant boy and I'm going to end up like Jane and Danny and I'm going to die in vain and alone. I need to leave. I need to leave this island full of nevers and I need to never look back because I refuse to like the boy who could fly because liking him means never feeling happiness again.


End file.
